


He's About as Local as They Come

by lostonplanetyou



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, JJ (Outer Banks) Deserves Better, OBX, Physical Abuse, Secret Relationship, So Little Time, feelings suck, jj just needs someone to take care of him, lonely jj, many characters to develop, this is not my take on season 2, wheres john b when you need him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24033826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostonplanetyou/pseuds/lostonplanetyou
Summary: Kiara’s always been hopeful. Pope spews the hard facts. Neither of them understands that the loss of both John Routledge’s in the last year meant the loss of a brother and the closest thing JJ had to a father. Now the Chateau feels empty, no matter how much he fills it with smoke, booze and nameless girls. If it weren’t for the deli owner’s daughter checking his pulse every couple days, he probably wouldn’t have one.
Relationships: JJ & Kiara & Pope & John B. Routledge, JJ & Kiara & Pope (Outer Banks), JJ & Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ (Outer Banks)/Original Female Character(s), Kiara/Pope (Outer Banks)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	He's About as Local as They Come

His eyes crack open and he’s momentarily blinded by the midafternoon sun streaming through the holes in the blinds. Over in the corner, the plug-in AC unit groans in exhaustion, puffing out a whisper of a cool breeze through its vent. He’s hot – unbearably hot. And something is wedged uncomfortably between the left side of his ribs. It feels like a knee.

The hangover fills his head with nausea and muddy thoughts of last night as he sits up, blinking to adjust to the light in the room. Knotted strawberry-blonde hair slips off his shoulders as he slides ungracefully off bed.

“Mmm,” the girl mumbles as the lumpy mattress shifts beneath her. She turns over onto her side and JJ stares at the collection of freckles on her bare back. 

“Jesus” he mutters under his breath as a shooting pain lightning bolts through his head. 

He stumbles into the kitchen, catching a whiff of whiskey and stale tomato sauce. There’s an upside-down pizza box lying under the table. JJ’s stomach lurches at the sight. He lets the tap water run until it’s no longer tinted brown then slurps from the faucet. Outside, the chickadees sing happily.

Fuck that.

Down the hall, JJ hears the click of Big John’s bedroom door. Kiara emerges into the living room, scratching at her rat’s nest of raven-colored hair, shooting bleary yet disgusted looks at the Kook JJ had seduced into his pull-out couch bed. “Gross, JJ.”

Wincing, he shakes his head and resumes drinking from the sink. He forgot Kie was even here.

“You make me listen to you two go at it all night and it couldn’t even be a Pogue that I lose sleep to.”

“No one forced you to spend the night here, Kie.”

She doesn’t answer, but JJ knows her well enough to know she’s rolling her eyes. A chair scrapes across the floor and Kiara sits down at the table, toes barely missing the smear of pepperonis beneath her. JJ wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans against the counter. The image of his one of two remaining friends swims before him. He may or may not still be drunk.

“You’ve looked better,” she says, not unkindly.

“I’ve felt better.”

“We all have.” Kiara sighs.

“Where’s Pope?”

She jerks her head back towards the bedroom. “Still passed out. We were up ‘till six.”

Knowing his two best friends had shared a bed together while he entertained himself with a stuck-up Kook whose name he can’t recall makes him shift uncomfortably. It makes him feel oddly alone. But whatever intimacy Kiara and Pope have developed since their kiss so many weeks ago, they’ve taken care to hide it from JJ, and because of this, the topic has never been brought up.

Of course, there have been more pressing matters to worry about since then. Like, for example, their best friend disappearing – presumed dead.

But recently, they’ve been slipping up: arriving at the Chateau together, hanging out without him, moving closer and closer to each other at each night’s bonfire. JJ can only pretend not to see it for so long, and as their best friend, he knows they’re going to want to tell him eventually; whether it’s out of pity or because they’re tired of keeping it secret, he doesn’t know. But he can sense that the conversation is coming soon.

Luckily, JJ’s always been good at shrugging off these kinds of things, so he lets her comment sizzle out into silence. 

The girl stirs on the couch. Kiara checks her out over her shoulder. “That’s the mayor’s niece, you know.” JJ smirks. If you’re going to go Kook, might as well go for the elites. “Hopefully he doesn’t find out she’s been here.”

“Eh, John B’s name’s been cleared for weeks. He shouldn’t care.”

“Yeah, but everyone knows this is where you’ve been staying. And you haven’t really kept it quiet about what goes on out here,” she says.

“You saying the town thinks I’m trouble?” JJ lifts a hand to his chest as if deeply hurt by her implication. Kiara keeps her mouth shut, but he cracks a grin. “Tell me something I don’t know, Kie.” She sighs.

“You’re about one noise complaint away from getting a fine or being removed from the property, JJ.”

“Oh, and so meanwhile you’ve been running around telling everyone to shut up every night? From what I recall, you’re the one who used their fake to buy fireworks last week.”

“Which was a drunken lapse in judgment.”

JJ scoffs. “Whatever.”

“You could be arrested—”

“—not like that hasn’t happened before—”

“—or sent back to your dad. You know better than the rest of us that the DCS has always had it out for you, and I’d hate to see you end up there again.”

“I can handle myself, Kie.” He gives her a look, chin jutting up in the air. She shakes her head.

“I know you can, but…” Kiara bites her lip. “We’re worried about you, JJ. _I’m_ worried about you. All this partying…” She trails off.

“I’m just having a little fun, that’s all.” He tries to muster his best smile for her, but his hangover makes it feel more like a grimace. “Enjoying my freedom before I’m a slave to the school district again and taking a little me time. In case you forgot, this past summer wasn’t the most relaxing one we’ve had.”

She side-steps his attempts to lighten the conversation with humor. Pinning him down with her eyes, she saya, “JJ, I know you were fired.”

A small shock runs through his veins. Dammit. Dammit. Damn you, Gregg.

He shuffles his feet, mumbling, “Where’d you hear that from?” In the back of his head, he can just barely remember the voice of his old lawn service boss screaming over the sound of his dirt bike revving through the sand; the clang of something metal hitting the tire of his bike as he peeled off; the slowed pounding of his heart as he swerved back and forth across the yellow lines, headed for the Chateau.

“Does it matter? You were fired for showing up to work drunk for the third time. _Third_. This isn’t healthy, JJ. We never said anything when you crashed your car, and we still didn’t say shit when you burned down your dad’s shed, but ever since John left—”

“Ever since John _died_.”

His eyes are hard. She hesitates. JJ sees the slightest movement of a lip quiver, but his on-coming hangover and his anger at the world prevent him from coddling his friend.

“Ever since John left,” she continues slowly, “you’ve been going off the rails, and Pope and I can’t keep up.”

JJ’s shoulders tense up. He scratches the back of his neck, goosebumps rising on his arms as his most recent fear starts to come true. This is it, the rest of his friends pulling away; John’s gone, with Sarah, now Kie and Pope are branching off to do their own thing. He’s pushed it too far. He’s gone too rogue. The rogue Pogue.

“We aren’t just going to let you run yourself into the ground, but you have to tell us how to help you. I know John leaving hurt you, but we have a plan, remember? We’re gonna save up for passage to Mexico, and we’re gonna check the news every day for signs of them, and then we’re gon—”

Across the room, the Kook shifts and raises her head. JJ pushes off from the counter, clearing his throat, and walks past Kiara. He grabs a tiny pair of jean shorts hanging off the edge of the kitchen table, then tosses them next to the stirring girl.

“Time to go.”

She blinks twice, staring blindly at him. “H-huh?”

“Let’s go.” He nudges her legs with a dirty bare foot. “Night's over. Time to wake up and face reality.” She winces. He spots her shirt hidden beneath the pull-out and throws that at her, too. “It’s daylight, which means the Cut and us Pogues are gonna look a whole lot uglier than they did last night with half a keg in ya, so I suggest you high-tail it out of here before the real regret sets in.”

He turns around as the Kook pulls on her clothes, Kiara staring at the wall the whole time. She’s out the door in seconds, slamming it behind her after shooting one last venomous glare at him. No love lost there, not with sobriety on the horizon. Behind him, Kiara sighs, but JJ has no desire for her to pick up where she left off, so he begins to clean; he can sense that she’s looking for an opening to continue, but after a moment, she lets it go and instead leans down to pick up the discarded pizza on the floor.

It’s silent between the two of them as they toss empty bottles into the recycling bin and other trash out into a pile in the yard. They can hear the quiet bubbling of the marsh water lapping on the shore, and the subdued hum of a fishing boat further out.

Eventually, Pope crawls out of John B’s old room, yawning and stretching and moaning about the noise the two friends made as they cleaned; nevertheless, he picks up a broom dutifully and helps them sweep the living room into something a little more livable. JJ senses Pope picked up on the fact that Kiara and him were choosing not to speak and didn’t force much conversation from either of them. There was a silent understanding between the three of them that each was too hungover to say much anyway.

The sun is flirting with the skyline by the time Kie sighs, mentioning a shower and a hot meal and working the dinner shift at her dad’s place, and JJ pretends he’s not jealous. She won’t look at him as she shoves her shoes on; Pope throws a searching look his way but follows her lead, like the loyal boyfriend does. JJ can taste something bitter on his tongue.

He lingers on the front porch as they head towards Kiara’s car. Pope looks back at him over his shoulder. “Text us if you want to do something tonight.” But he’s already climbing into the car, dark eyes red-rimmed and tired, and JJ knows he’s just saying it because he’s JJ’s friend and he has to. Beneath the invitation, he can hear the burden of the onus in Pope’s voice – the same kind he heard in Kie’s – and forcibly swallows the resulting lump in his throat.

A friendship isn’t really a friendship if one party feels obligated to participate just to make sure the other doesn’t sink a car into the marsh or accidentally slit their wrists with a carving knife.

JJ turns for the hammock tied up to the sturdy mesquite trees before he can catch their parting looks. Laid back on the knotted rope, he watches the sun sink behind the lighthouse seven miles west of him. 

He tries not to think of Kiara and Pope enjoying a meal together in the back room of The Wreck, undoubtedly swapping complaints and-slash-or concerns over JJ’s recent behavior. His stomach turns over, but it’s not from hunger. Although he wouldn’t mind Mr. Carrera’s homemade lobster roll right about now. 

As if on cue, with the sun hanging low over the marsh grass and the first orchestra of crickets scratching their legs together to chirp, JJ hears the crunch of heavy tires on gravel. 

He can’t ignore the quick lurch in his gut, like a hook yanking on his navel, even though he hates it. He breathes hard through his nose and wills himself not to look, no matter how much he wants to. The arrival of this new car means so many things, and like Pavlov’s dog, JJ has grown accustomed to drooling at just the sound of it, so he stays seated in the hammock, determined to keep his desire in check.

For now.

The vehicle stops, then there’s the slam of a car door. Footsteps drawing closer.

“You alive?”

“Barely.” He stares out at the swamp as the last rays of sun dip his face in a honey glow. Something pleasant tickles his nose, and he identifies it as fresh laundry. With a soft tug, he feels her steady the swaying hammock by looping her fingers through the holes. JJ looks round at her.

Her lips are pursed like she’s holding back a smile, eyes bright in the last moments of evening light. Her hand finds the crook between his neck and shoulder and a slim finger with a pink-painted nail finds the vulnerable skin over his jugular. “Heart’s still beating,” she says. “Despite running mainly on beer and Doritos.” 

He cracks a smile despite the shitty thoughts of today replaying through his head, and she smirks back at him. Her being this close has eased some of the tension from his neck and shoulders, from his consistently clenched fists. He leans into the feeling.

“Speaking of which.”

She drops bags of groceries on top of him, stopping all thoughts he has of willing her to tangle herself into this hammock with him. JJ catches a glimpse of a stack of frozen pizzas, a bundle of fresh shrimp, even a couple heads of lettuce, before experiencing that familiar feeling of shame mixed with excitement. JJ’s always dreamed of having people buy him food and bring him things, but not like this.

Sensing his hesitation, she cuts him off before he can summon up any kind of thank you. “Come on, JJ. Something tells me the party I missed hasn't been entirely cleaned up uet.” She turns for the house. JJ likes watching the swing of her hips in that flowy skirt she wears, pretending she’s trying for him even though he knows she’s not. 

“Better hurry,” she calls out, “before that ice cream melts.”

With a twist, JJ jumps off of the hammock and gathers the items for his feast fit for eleven-year-old kings. Like a weary traveler lost in the dark, he follows after her like she’s his own beacon of hope.

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys! this is my first story on here, eep! I can't even begin to explain how excited I am to start this! I've written a lot for many different fandoms before, but this was years and years ago. that being said, I would really appreciate it if you went a lil easy on me, lol. 
> 
> xoxo, lostonplanetyou


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